You and I
by Jenelle Lucia
Summary: [rewrite] "I remember it all in distant memories, illegible entries, and our ups and downs." Lia reflects on her past with Alfred while living in their present. / America x Tavarua (OC) {rated M for implied mornings after, self-harm, and more}
1. I Found You

I'm back once again! And you all must be wondering why I deleted _For the Love of America_.

I honestly figured that it would take me much too long to depict every single important year of Lia's life into one fic that could take me months and time to write, but why not sum it all up into one tiny thing? Ah, well...I wouldn't say tiny, but I promise that I will sum it all up here!

The way I wanted to write this one was sort of like diary entries or letters, which would be in the first person, and a flash forward to Lia and Alfred in the future as well as snippets of their relationship that correspond with the "entry", if what you will. I hope you guys enjoyed For the Love of America while it was still up, and I hope you enjoy this new rewrite!

 _You and I_

 _["Every love story is beautiful, but ours is my favorite."]_

* * *

 _I found you._

I remember the first time you spoke my name, when we first crossed paths in the way you had never expected us to. I've seen bloodshed and violence at an age one never should see it at; and you, you've been around far more than I have and yet, you've seen it all happen. You've seen, in just the years you've been around, what I had seen in the firsts of my life and everything had been a vivid, vivid blur to you. I sometimes wondered why we looked the same - your hair matched mine, blue matched blue but in varying degrees, and we both had that hint of a tan gracing our skin. I wondered why the smile on your face matched mine, your sky blue eyes full of curiosity and slight fear and wonder at the sight of me and when I first saw you I had the same look, just accompanied by one last glance of question.

Why were you there? What did I have to offer you at a young age?

You were pretty lax with me, which is all I can say at the moment. The minute we first crossed paths I knew that you would make some sort of difference. I just didn't know what. You'd have gone away often, and I would just sit there by the window waiting for you. You'd come back every time though, I promise. You'd tell me stories of where you had gone and what you had done and I would listen _endlessly_. And by endlessly, it would be until I fell asleep. You also brought me back all sorts of presents and more and yet the only thing I ever wanted was to have you home. I wanted you home and I swore that I could have sat by the window for the rest of my life if I had to. No one could pull me away from that place, and yet...yet...

I seemed to pull myself away.

That place never lost meaning for me. I mean, it had getting older, but back then it never had. That was my safe haven, the only place I had ever felt safe in, and as I grew I felt trapped. _Trapped_ is the wrong word. Or maybe it was the right one. Who knows. All I know is that I was the one who trapped myself there, or maybe you were the one who trapped me there when I wouldn't stop sitting. And I sometimes think that we're both at fault. Neither one of us takes the blame, and yet I can't decide who was more at fault. Conflicting, but what could I do?

I remember the earlier times you'd come home with all the stories you'd tell, all the presents just for me, and just your presence in particular. I felt reassured at the moment, and maybe, just maybe, you'd stay. And yes, I can be wrong. Very wrong.

So wrong that it _suffocated_ me.

 _[2015]_

The feeling of Alfred's skin against hers soothed Lia almost instantly.

The American smiled as he looped his arms around her waist, pulling her down against him, which earned a returning grin from the Tavaruan in his arms. She remembered how badly she fell for that smile - so warm, inviting, and so bright, but at the same time they had once been filled with the emptiest of promises, the sickest of lies, and the harshest of truths that she could barely stand to think of now that she was in the moment. No, no. She was with Alfred. He could tell if she was seemingly in distress or if she was bothered by something, and he was the one to immediately assume that it was his fault and -

She only ignored the thought when her boyfriend pressed warm kisses to her neck, nuzzling his nose into the crook of where he kissed her many times before. Lia could feel his eyes glancing from her neck to her lips where he immediately leaned over and pressed one more kiss to the corner of her mouth. And god, she loved times like these with Alfred.

Her friends didn't really approve of her new (and first) boyfriend; it was okay, as long as they tried being civil. She secretly was still a little wary about him (after all, once a playboy, seemingly always a playboy) but she had learned to look past everything and just completely go with it. She smiled when he brought his fingers up to her hair and carefully combed it through her curls while pressing her forehead against his. Alfred was honestly never the type to be too close, but Lia loved it either way. Another thing was, he also wasn't the type to express himself in actions, but more in words. That scared Lia, too; she fell for the words, but she never looked at the deeper meaning behind them, which wasn't a very good quality on her part.

(Then again, both parties were at fault for hesitation on both sides. Alfred, as he lately had been unable to express himself in front of someone who was able to express herself much easily than she, and this shouldn't have been a bigger problem than when analyzing Shakespearean sonnets were a thing; and Lia, for holding herself back and not enjoying the ride that this new feeling had to offer. Yes, she was scared, and yes, she was learning to let go; no, she was absolutely terrified and she couldn't let go of absolutely _everything_ , which just limited her trust in him even more.)

And he went paranoid sometimes. She would probably leave him like before, and she was more than all about reassuring him that she wasn't going anywhere. It was more than a perfect time to prove it.

Lia would only smile at her boyfriend as she pressed her forehead against his, and said boyfriend would press the back of his hand against her cheeks and run it up and down that one side of her face. Alfred would smile in return, leaning over to press more kisses against her nose and cheeks and lips and she would kiss back immediately, smiling when he smiled and occasionally nestling her face into the crook of his shoulder. She'd laugh when he'd make a remark or he'd grin when she said something incredibly straightforward, but the one thing she wouldn't tell him was that she loved him.

Not yet, anyway.

"I like you," she'd only murmur sweetly, and that was all that she would give him for now.


	2. I Believed in You

_I believed in you._

For a moment, this was a fairy tale in Lia's eyes. And at the same time, it was as if the fairy tale was slowly ending and at the same time introducing the new concept of reality and the young blonde didn't know whether or not to embrace it or enjoy the last of that fairy tale before it slipped out of her grasp. And believe me, it was slipping out very quickly. Gone away were the bedtime stories, the long hours of sitting the day away by the window for someone she eventually realized wouldn't come (well, she knew he would come; but she was unaware of the uninvited "guests" that later became normal, but painful occurrences growing up) and she just had to learn how to live on her own.

.

Just thinking of Alfred made Lia's head spin, sitting there as she sipped some newly made tea that Arthur, who had come over to watch her once again, made for her. She recoiled at the bitter taste that the Earl Grey had somehow brought her, and the younger immediately spooned in a few teaspoons of sugar before stirring it in and lifting it carefully just as the Englishman before her had taught her many years ago, once more recoiling at the remaining bitterness and setting it down.

"I don't think I can get used to the taste yet, Arthur," she only spoke up, leaning back on the loveseat she sat on and looking towards the blond-haired, green-eyed Briton in front of her. He simply sipped his tea, leaving the blonde to wonder how he could drink the tea without recoiling or the like and put his teacup down without an expression of disgust, much like she did moments before.

"Quite understandable, love," he answered, placing the cup with ease back on the saucer before sitting back, arms folded. "I don't understand something."

At that, Lia eyed him almost nervously, but she did sit up straight (also what he had taught her to do) and listened closely. "And that might be...?"

"Why don't you just leave Alfred already? I mean, you're young, love. You seem done with what he's doing, aren't you? Going around, never coming home...surely you must be tired of that."

The blond-haired girl raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, still looking in his direction. Seeming as he _was_ the British Empire, it was ironic; he...actually supported her having her freedom? It was a little odd the way she looked at it. And she had to think of it this way: Exactly _why_ was he asking her this? Was it for the possibility that maybe, if she became independent then he would come and take her over and convert her to his ways? That made Lia shrink away a little, and Arthur chuckle lowly.

"I didn't think you of all people would advocate for independence." _Especially under the circumstance that Alfred was the one who broke away from you..._

(And she didn't think he was the type to advocate for such a liberal idea _at all_. For one, Lia knew that Arthur was traditional and preferred to go about the ways he had always gone, and never looked to another path.)

"I may surprise you. Have you ever actually thought about it, though?"

"Not really. I don't know what I'd do by myself."

Arthur frowned. Surely he had taught Lia better than that. Why yes, he might not have liked the idea of a colony of his breaking away (and America was the only one ever to do so directly), but she was different. She was _his_ colony. When Alfred had vowed not to make the same mistakes that Britain had so "made" while still under his rule, he made his own mistakes, which were beginning to drive Lia away from him. And Arthur's role? Taking care of her was one.

Driving her even farther away from Alfred was another.

He honestly cared about Tavarua, going as far as to say that he loved her, and there was so much that Alfred had done that Lia was beginning to realize was hurting her emotionally and mentally. She didn't deserve any of that. She needed someone who would truly care for her, instead of leave her almost all the time instead of watching her grow. Arthur was lucky to be around for most of that, and for even being involved in Lia's life at all. At this point, she wasn't even a colony he could consider taking over once she gained her independence from Alfred; he would be her France (as atrocious it sounded to the Brit) and be the one to help her get there, much like how France helped America get his freedom. And if France was able to do that, Britain was able to do this.

"What do you say love? Think about it?"

"It's tempting."

.

"I can't believe Arthur brought up that idea to you..." It had been almost a week since the conversation Arthur had with Lia, and now Matthew was sitting in the garden behind the giant mansion Alfred and Lia lived in (or it was more like just Lia lived in it; it was big and lonely and Alfred was supposed to live in it with her but he was gone...again.) with the said young blonde. "Why would he bring it up?"

"I'm not sure," Lia answered, also pondering over it once again. "He doesn't seem like the type of person to bring it up, even if he says isn't still upset about what happened then."

(Everyone knows that Arthur's still upset, that's no lie; it's been 125 years since it happened and he still got upset over it. And now people were thinking that since revolutionary ideas were spreading in Tavarua, he was the one spreading them in the hopes that Lia would one day actually take his advice and leave Alfred the way he broke away from England.)

"He never really liked talking about it, which is the thing."

Matthew paused for a moment, only letting the sound of the birds and the rustling of the leaves on the trees overtake the silence that had overcome them shortly. He then spoke up once again, answering with a, "Maybe it's just to get back at my brother."

Lia gave him a disbelieving look, then shook her head. "No. Arthur wouldn't tell me that just to get back at Alfred for leaving. He can't do anything about it now. It's been 125 years."

"Do you really believe that?"

"He isn't that kind of person."

"Lia, I will tell you now that people aren't always what they seem to be. You may have heard of their reputations, what they're praised and hated for, and all of that. It still doesn't change who they really are."

That shut the blonde up real quick. And at the same time, she couldn't help but to wonder if Arthur really was telling her the truth or if he just used her as a powder keg for revenge against his former colony.

Either way, that concept...that idea of freedom sounded inviting.

"Are you thinking about it?"

( _Arthur asked her that the first time; it was tempting._ )

"Yes. Yes I am."

She meant it.

.

Tavaruan Revolution, Valentine's Day Revolt, Revolution of 1903... whatever people wanted to call it.

It had been two years since those conversations. Lia was free. Alfred was bitter.

And there was Arthur smiling proudly at her when she finally walked away from the one who never really raised her.

 _[2015]_

"You'll never leave me?"

"Never."

I felt like it was reassurance at the time to keep telling him that, seeming as I was the one who broke away. I laid there next to him early one morning, almost about to get up when I felt him gently pull me back down towards our bed. We couldn't sleep this long; he and I both knew we had a meeting at around 9:30-ish, 10...that we had to wake up super early for it, too.

"Stay," he murmured into my bare shoulder. It was muffled, took some effort to hear, but I could make out that he wanted me to stay in just for a little longer.

"We have a meeting at like...9:30."

"Doesn't matter, darlin'. Just stay."

I laughed softly, feeling more awake than ever as I switched my position with my back to him to where our eyes met again and he leaned in for a good morning peck, which I returned just as quickly. I made myself comfortable before yawning again, and I could feel the back of his hand gently stroke my cheek and he's looking at me with the sleepiest smile I have ever seen and in that moment I melted.

God, he was adorable.

"What time did you set the alarm for?" he asked me, to which I thought over again.

"Uh...maybe 7:30, around eight, why?"

"That's so early..."

I laugh again and he pouts ever so slightly, but I can tell that he's just joking around and suddenly I agreed that UN conferences were way too early at this rate.

"You can pull through. You're the world's sole superpower, remember?"

"China's catching up to me, " he reminded me once again. "And you and Russia're gaining speed, too."

There would come a day when Alfred wouldn't be as powerful as he was before, and that idea had been around since the beginning of time. Not all things lasted forever, and yet that's when I realized _we_ wouldn't last.

I wanted to try, though. Even when the day came that America lost his place as the sole superpower I wanted to keep going on with him. He only ran a hand through my curls as he pulled me closer, nestling his nose into my hair as we laid there once again in the silence.

"You'll never leave me, right?"

"What brought this up?"

He chuckled. "Just answer the question."

"I feel like I'm the one wearing the pants in this relationship." I could hear Alfred from above me laughing as he pressed yet another kiss tot the top of my head and ran a hand down to the small of my back, pulling me as close to him as I could get and I entangled our legs together beneath our sheets. Perfect morning.

"I'll never leave you."

It was no 'I love you', but it seemed to count as one.

But that would be enough.


	3. You Hurt Me Once

_You Hurt Me Once_

I'm selfish. _Very selfish_.

I don't know why I decided to start with that. Maybe it's just true, or maybe it's some natural human response that decided to show up later on. I just don't know, but I'm concluding that I'm selfish. And I do selfish things as a result. I didn't realize that it hurt me; but later on, I realized that it did. I kept doing it anyway. It helped me cope with the emotional pain I so desperately tried denying myself, and it helped...it just brought me under more scrutiny than I wanted.

People just started asking me questions, and I knew that I had to play dumb with it. There was no bad wrist (even though it _was_ a bad wrist). There were no burn scars on my wrist. And no, I didn't wear bandages on my wrist to look like a badass or as a fashion accessory.

( _"Why did she wear bandages around her left wrist?"_ )

I used it cover up my scars. And to cover my scars, I also covered them with lies.

.

I sat with my back against the door, knees hugged close to my chest. I heaved a few breaths as big tears rolled down my face, and my fingers were coated in my blood as I gripped my left wrist rather tightly. _What had I done, what had I done...?_

My mind was racing with possibilities at the realization of what I did. Around this time, I was sure to be looked down upon now that I think about what would happen if the news of me doing... _this_ came out. But then I thought that I wasn't the only one who did this. I remember Arthur telling me about these girls - some my age and some older -who practiced something like this but with sewing needles (and I believe he called them "needle girls"). And when you look at me, I didn't use a needle, which was probably less painful than what I used. And I didn't puncture myself repeatedly with it, as great as it sounded.

I looked down at my feet to see a beautifully carved tri-linked hearts handle bearing a perfectly sharpened, but small blade tipped with blood, and I carefully opened my fingers to see the long, perfectly cut line I made into my left wrist. It was still bleeding, and I watched it trickle down like a stream before making the decision to carefully wash it out and cover it up to avoid infection.

I hastily got up and clutched my wrist tightly so that the pressure would stop it from bleeding (be as it was a thin cut), and I quickly turned the faucet on to the coldest setting to numb it. As I began to wash the cut out, I hissed at the searing pain that had decided to catch up to me in place of the numbness I felt earlier when I first made it. Once it was clean and washed it out, I carefully held at my wrist again and searched my drawers and bed for a clean bandages to wrap it in until finally I found one. I wrapped it around my left wrist carefully, and I dropped to my bed with the stinging feeling shocking up my arm and sending me signals that I probably never should do this again.

I never listened. And that first time was not the last time.

.

Walking through my capital city with my hands shoved in my pockets made me all the more suspicious.

Odd, I know. Never seen a girl my age walk around with her hands in her pockets? You should see it in the winter. Anyways, I was trying to ignore the stares that bore into my back and made me uncomfortable to the point of where I constantly had to turn around to see who was watching me, and how people pointed out that I was trying to pull my left sleeve down to cover my bandaged wrist.

Thankfully, I also ignored the questions about what really happened to me until I got home.

Unraveling the bandages, there I could see the fresh new cut I had made below the first one I made a while back, and looking to the sky (or at least my ceiling) I let out a long, shaky sigh as I ran a dainty finger over the first one, which was still tender, and the second one, flinching at the slight stinging sensation both cuts had brought me. Walking over to my nightstand, I pulled open the drawer to catch sight of the now sheathed knife that I used once again, and with an emotionless laugh I remembered something.

He made me that knife himself.

I looked back down on those perfectly thin lines on decorating my wrist once again.

 _One..._

 _...Two..._

.

 _...Three._

There were three of them now. As time went on, I began to feel the numbness again. There was no stinging sensation after I washed it a third time. My arms were red, yes, with blood and the irritation of me rubbing at them carefully to clean my latest cut out, and along the way I'd been coming up with numerous excuses as to why I kept wearing the bandages around my wrist. And not only did I have to wash out my cuts, but lately my bandages had been getting dirty - dust, dried blood...everything you can name.

I hovered over the sink as I finished up the routine I started for myself after I began doing this. Looking over myself in the mirror, I actually realized how horrible I looked when I was like this: dark circles under my eyes, my hair was unruly, and overall I was a mess.

And right now, I didn't feel like cleaning up. All I wanted to clean up was the blood on my hands (literally, might I add) and the horrible excuses I've made and maybe polish those up for some other person and see if they would fall for it.

Funny how I haven't used them on anyone I knew, and I was only using them on my own people. And it was even more amusing how in the moment I was thinking of myself.

( _Like I said before: I'm selfish._ )

Coming back into my room, the strong scent of iron lingered in the air and seemed to calm my senses as I took my newly washed bandages into my hands. I stopped when in the mid-attempt to lace them around my wrists again, and I stared at the three cuts in the eerie silence of my almost darkened room.

There's three. And it was supposed to be a perfect number, wasn't it? I thought it was.

I asked him to stay three times. He disappeared three times. There were three people he prioritized in his life over me. And because of that three, I cut three times.

(He should've seen how perfect that number was, thinking about what he did to me.)

Thank you for bringing one into the home we were supposed to live together in.

Thank you for neglecting me for the second.

And thank you for moving on with the third.

I hope you're happy. I'm not.

( _If you're wondering if this is the last time, you know me well enough by now._ )

 _[2015]_

The silence was scarily unnerving to Alfred as he watched Lia sift through the box she had hidden in their walk-in closet. When they had first moved into their beach side home, she was particularly adamant on moving that box in with them. And who was he to deny her that?

( _"What exactly that box for?"_ He remembered asking her the first day he moved in with her.

 _"Shoes."_ And from then on he never asked again.)

Alfred peeked in at certain intervals, watching as his girlfriend rummaged through the box. There were a number of things in there - namely journals, old letters and uniforms, and tattered black and white photos. What caught his eye was the small wooden music box with the painted flower designs and he watched her take out the box ever so carefully, opening the lid and showing him the inside.

Taking it into his hands, Alfred observed the box carefully, then lifting it over his head to see that little knob that turned on the music box. "I...actually can't believe you kept this."

Lia only laughed softly, pushing a piece of her long, curled hair behind her ear as she hugged her knees close to her chest and rested her head on them, answering with, "Yeah, well, I did. Look in it."

He dutifully nodded, once again taking a peek inside the small box. Inside it were a number of things. Some one or two photos with inscriptions on the backs, little letters and postcards, and an old vintage-looking locket that he had given to her for her fifth birthday (to which she had sworn religiously to "never take off"; she took it off after her revolution), and he gulped nervously when he laid eyes on the last item: a sheathed blade, one with a perfectly sharpened blade and a smoothly polished wooden handle resembling that of tri-linked hearts.

"I made you this," he finally spoke after lifting it from its spot in the box.

"You did," she agreed, lifting her head slightly.

If there was anything she learned now that she was with Alfred, it was that their past was a touchy subject with him. He knew what he had done as of now, and worked tirelessly to make sure that the future they would have together was much better than what happened between them before. And he also knew that it was because of him that she hurt herself like that. She didn't need for him to try and win her forgiveness like that; she forgave him anyway. On top of that, she was trying her best to move past what he had done in order to focus on the relationship they had now.

Sometimes, though, the past enjoyed biting them both in the ass when need be.

"Does it still..."

"Al, they've faded a long time ago. You know that."

"No, I mean does it still hurt...what I did to you." _Oh._ Well, she wouldn't deny that it did. Of course it still hurt. Just talking about this still hurt her. She knew it hit him more than ever, now that he was still coming to terms with how much pain he brought her in the past, but she tried to avoid the subject as much as she could when it was brought up.

"I'd be lying if I said it didn't," she answered after another moment of silence, stretching out her legs once she felt them fall asleep. When she wasn't given a reply in the next half a second or so, the blond Tavaruan turned to see her boyfriend still staring blankly at the knife in his hands, unmoved, unblinking. "Babe..."

"I'd rather have you be honest with me this time around," he chuckled softly, placing the knife back into the box before looking up at her again. "I'm sorry, Lia."

"You know you don't need to apologize."

"And you know I have to. Over and over again even though I know that it isn't enough to make up for all those years."

 _(He had to because it was later on, or was it because he felt like he had to? She didn't know.)_

"So what if it's not enough to make up for it?" she then asked. Even if she was the one to have all the questions, she knew that he might have the answers (not even _might_ ; he _had_ them. He just had to figure out what to say). "Do you really think that I'm looking for you to make up almost two centuries with me, when really we don't know how much time we have together?"

And to be honest, he never knew how much time he had with her. For all he knew, one day she could just get up and leave him the way he left her all those years ago (and god knows that he deserved it, even during the times he'd ask him to never let her go again). He watched as she crawled over to him and perched next to him, blue eyes fixated on the knife that he had only been holding not but ten minutes ago.

He craned his head over to her, looking down at her left wrist before gently taking it in his hand and pressing kisses to one...two..three...and as she tore her gaze from the knife to meet his in a worried glance, he only leaned over to press his slightly chapped lips to her much softer, kissable ones. They melded together, moving in sync and before he could do anything else she pulled away to meet his gaze once more.

"I love you," he murmured softly, running a gentle thumb over the first three cuts that decorated her skin.

 _(Lia was silent, but she did kiss him again.)_


	4. I Want to Be Your First Choice

_I want to be your first choice._

When he thought about it, it was painful.

Taking a swig of his scotch glass, Arthur set it down with a slight thump as he looked around the bar. The jovial war tunes blasted from the radio, and he was able to make out the singers or few before taking one more swig. The ice clinked on the bottom of the glass as he set it down on the counter, and he sat on the stool with almost a stoic look on his face (and it was funny, too, since the war he promised her that he wouldn't drink like this so he could fly properly).

What a time to be alive.

Looking around, he could see the other RAF pilots who had accompanied him to drink today, and it would have been better with the presence of one. And now thinking again, she was much younger than he was. She was only 16, and yet she had worked her way up to being one of the most successful (and female) fighter pilots that the western world had ever seen. Not only that, she was maturing. Thanking the bartender for getting him his refill of scotch, he swirled the glass around before bringing the glass to his lips, smiling slightly as he sipped on it.

It was practically hard to believe that this was the little girl he convinced to rebel against Alfred so many years ago.

He had no regrets about that, that's for sure. Looking at the clock sip by sip, Arthur only scratched the back of his neck anxiously as his gaze darted from the clock to the door, waiting for the chime to ring and in walked the beautiful, petite pilot who seemed to catch his eyes throughout the years...

"Hey," one of the pilots in his squadron took the stool next to him, his own glass in hand. "Waiting on someone?"

"No," he shook his head in reply, taking one more swig. "Why would I be waiting on someone?"

"Just watching you look at the door, I can tell."

Arthur only answered with an exasperated sigh as he lifted his glass, with only the rim of it filled with scotch, to his lips and finishing it off before setting it back on its coaster. "Sod off, James."

The pilot, James, only gave him a small (rather knowing) smile, which irritated the Brit even more. Who was he to think that he was waiting for someone?

( _Who was he kidding - he would forever wait, as cheesy as it sounded._ )

.

 _Beautiful._

 _No, what was he thinking?!_

Arthur hooked his index finger through the shirt collar as he adjusted the tie he was wearing. It might have been a small dinner hosted by his boss, and while not many nations were there (some he could point out were France and Austria and Hungary, but that's really besides the point) he just didn't seem to care. There she was, smiling and laughing with France and Canada and did she look _radiant._

No. Oh, no. He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But how...exactly how was she able to look so grown up in an environment where she could easily seem inexperienced social wise, and yet pull it all...

"Arthur?" a much lighter voice snapped him out of his reverie and there was Belgium, standing behind him with a rather curious look on her face. The Brit sighed in relief, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his already slightly mussed blond hair and closed his eyes. Emma lifted the champagne flute to her lips, arching a perfect eyebrow in confusion as she followed Arthur's line of sight and then she understood.

Ah. _She_ was why.

The Tavaruan was growing - in appearance, personality, and intelligence - and it amazed everyone how she could get up after being neglected by Alfred. She was faring well, as the people in the room could see, and she proved to warm up well in social scenarios such as this. She was amiable, polite, and a bit soft-spoken in terms, but she did make good points in conversations.

(And from that, Arthur could see that he taught her well.)

Behind closed doors though, Arthur knew. He knew Lia was a mess. He'd sometimes catch her coming out of the bathroom on some of his now frequent visits, and he'd let himself in when she wouldn't come herself. She'd be fastening the bandages she wore only around her left wrist, and she'd have a small smile on her face. It made him a little suspicious, but that didn't stop his frequent visits. If it were a walk or simply catching up over a cup of tea, he treasured those moments.

This was the girl he had watched grow up.

This was the little girl who was now free from someone who probably - no, not probably - didn't deserve her.

God, looking back at it made Arthur wonder why a smile would instinctively cross his face as she met his gaze and smiled at him.

.

It was hard seeing her look so lost.

She always had that look on her face at the end of the day, let alone after every flight. He never understood why, but she did. He'd catch her after a walk on the beach and she'd stand there with such a listless look on her face and her arms crossed and he'd almost think that she literally died standing. She would do that hours upon hours and not come back to the base until it was completely dark out - or if he got lucky, she'd come in when dusk was about to settle. It had become a routine since she flew out with Alfred to the base, and while they seemed to be the best pair for flying, he could see how separated they were after the flights.

After tonight though, he knew why she strayed away from everyone else.

Arthur was sitting with the other pilots in the filled dining hall, and while the chatter was getting louder he was paying no mind to it. In fact, he was searching the tent opening to see if she would walk in and -

"Artie! You gonna eat your food?" ( _This. Twat._ )

Had he no worries for the Tavaruan outside? She was out on one of her routines again, and as the remnants of the afternoon glow seemed to cast a reflection down on the waves, it was clear that Lia would be back around her usual time. He was already finished with his food, and seeing Alfred falter away to give his attention to the young woman next to him made Arthur put two and two together.

And he realized two more things after that.

The young woman next to him was stunning. Black-brown hair, enticing chocolate brown eyes, soft, silky tan skin...she was an angel who was in no comparison to the angel in literal name and respected nickname. She seemed perfect for Alfred, concerning how wrapped up and drawn into each other they were, whereas this was Lia's chance to escape and just ease herself before coming back in the latest hour she deemed fit. No one seemed to mind her "disappearing act", as they liked to call it, but it concerned Arthur. And it was clear once again that her reason to escape would have been sitting right in front of her. And at this point, he totally got it. The way Alfred and this girl were acting was making him so uncomfortable to the point where it was nauseating.

Arthur then went, one leg after the other as he got up from the bench at the table and left the couple there (and most people were getting up to leave anyway) and he lifted up the flap of the tent and walked along the shore, looking out across the waves sparkling thanks to what was left of the light setting upon it. And on the farther end, she stood there. She still had her arms crossed, still had that listless look on her face, and she wasn't looking out at the ocean. Instead, she was looking down at the floor.

(And that was a look Arthur had never seen until today.)

The sand lifted off of his boot-clad feet and crunched beneath him, masking the sound of his approaching her until she finally turned her head at the sound of footsteps. She could only smile slightly as her sky blue eyes met his hues of green, but somehow the way her eyes looked seemed much glassier than he thought they were. Were they like this every night she stood out here? No, it couldn't...

"Nice night out," he finally spoke as he approached her, which also seemed to catch her attention. She nodded slowly before returning her gaze to the floor, and it was a sign. She was probably already done with the shit Alfred had put her through - and Arthur wouldn't blame her, anyways. He probably would have been done, too, if he were her. "So this is what you do out here..."

"Hm?" Lia looked up at him before looking around and then back at him, "oh, yeah. Helps me think, too."

(Arthur could tell she thought about many things. New places to escape to would have been another thing for her to add, but just catching her out now and _being alone with her_ just...)

Arthur looked back to see Alfred and that girl he was with be one of the last to leave, and Lia's gaze followed his. Alfred was totally oblivious to the two people watching him, and he pulled the girl he was with closer to him as they walked from the tent to God knows where, and that made the blonde standing next to Arthur pull away even more and quickly look back at her feet with a snap. And at that moment, Lia never looked so vulnerable.

She may have been bold and brave, and she was most definitely beyond beautiful. At this point though, she was very broken.

"Lia - "

"Tell me something, Arthur," she began. That shut him up immediately.

"I'll tell you anything, love."

(He would literally tell her anything she wanted - what she wanted to hear, what she didn't want to hear...everything. At this point, though, there were more things she didn't want to hear than hear.)

"I spent months, years trying to get away from him. What did I do that was so horrible to have him stay in my life?" Arthur looked back to make sure Alfred wasn't there listening in to their conversation, because if he had to tell her the truth, it stung to hear it. Considering Lia's end though, she was angry. And she had every right to be angry. Having Alfred here, especially with another girl, just added more fuel to her flame. Nevertheless though, Arthur stayed silent as he continued to listen to her - and frankly, she was far from done.

"I'm free, right?" she went on, walking to where the foamy tides of the waves curled up against the sand banks, back and forth in repetitive patterns. "And yet, somehow he ends up staying in my life. That's not what I wanted! I wanted to get away from him. Why can't he just get out of my life like he was supposed to in the first place?! Why can't he and his flings just stay away from me?!"

He watched as her voice rose to that crescendo and her tone change as she vented to him, her hands balling into fists by her side, and after taking slow steady breaths she finally settled down as her voice shrunk to such a tiny whisper it took effort to hear her. "Artie...why can't this just leave me alone?"

( _"Why do I care so much about what he does...?"_ )

Lia was so very broken and Arthur hated to see her that way. He genuinely hated seeing her so affected by this. She had been trying not to let it get to her, and now...

"Come, love." His voice was almost as close as a whisper as hers when he beckoned her closer to him. He opened his arms to her, and she could only let out a shaky sigh as she slowly walked from the waves and into his arms. And god, were they comforting. He stood there, basking in the silence with her in his arms as he placed his chin on her head, holding her tightly against him and reveling in the feeling of her arms snaking around his torso and squeezing him back.

At this point, it was futile trying to stray her feelings away from Alfred, as clearly she was starting to care for him in a way that she wished she didn't. And the Brit was in the same situation - those feelings for Lia he had she probably never would return, but the future was always worth a shot. All he could do right now was comfort her as best as he could, no matter how much it hurt him to know that he truly loved someone who didn't love him back (yet anyway, as the future had endless possibilities).

"I know it's hard," he finally spoke after a moment of silence. "The people we don't want in our lives are going to be there anyway...and just getting by with them is part of life. I told you when you were younger that there will be people who will step on you, who will break you, and who will abandon you." He pulled away and cupped her face, staring for a moment into those big blue eyes that he loved so much and god, did he really love them. He gently pulled her face closer and pressed his lips to her forehead, then wrapped his arms around her again as he murmured into her hair.

"I promise you that I'll be one of the people who never will."

And he only closed his eyes when she hugged him back again.

 _[2016]_

This was a long, and dreadfully torturous month for Arthur.

And who was he kidding, it was always torturous when he had to wake up early to go to work. He had a pretty simple morning routine, as the first thing that made his day was his girlfriend sleeping beside him. He smiled at the sight of Arissa Stone, the Falkland Islands - _his_ Falkland Islands that he was so desperately fighting Argentina for - laying there next to him. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, figuring that she'd wake up in just a bit and that they had time to prepare for today's meeting and he got up to get everything else ready. He was much faster in prepping before his girlfriend and be ready around the time she just got out of the shower.

( _Prep time: check._ )

After grabbing his keys and their ready made coffee (or rather, _Arissa's_ ready-made coffee; Arthur insisted that he has his tea and the Falkland Islands personification was nowhere near arguing with that) they got into the car and drove to the summit building, either talking about the schedule or the plans they made for the night after the meeting and once they made it to the building Arthur could see who was either just arriving or pulling up.

And one of the things he saw made his stomach drop almost painfully.

There she was, getting out of the passenger seat of a red pick up truck. And Arthur knew Lia would _never_ drive anything like that. He knew what her car looked like. Everyone knew what it looked like. His stomach clenched twice as much as it did before when he saw who got out of the driver's seat with a Betsey Johnson tote bag slung over his shoulder and smiled when he went to go meet Lia on the side she was on, handing her the bag and pressing a chaste kiss to her lips before taking her hand and leading her to the double doors that brought them into the summit building.

And to tell the truth, Arthur never hated Alfred more.

He never understood what made Lia fall for him. In fact, no one understood what made Lia fall for Alfred. It just so happened that one day, Alfred and Lia walked in to the meeting room, announced that they were dating, and that was that. It was odd, to say the least; they had been butting heads ever since she arrived at the summit building. But Arthur could see it, though. Alfred was attracted to her. And no lie, Lia was attracted to him, too. And when it came to the emotional parts, they were both just incredibly stubborn - Alfred complained to him about why Lia wouldn't understand the way he felt towards her, and Lia would complain to Arissa about how she couldn't be with Alfred because she only remembered what he did in the past.

(How time changes everything, Arthur thought then.)

Getting out of the car with Arissa, Arthur could see the two already up ahead through the glass doors. Alfred was holding Lia's hand, and she shifted her grip to intertwine their fingers together. Opening the door with a single hand, he led Arissa inside and from behind the two, he could see Alfred gently pull Lia towards him and the pair laughed as their shoulders bumped. It was then Alfred smiled down at her, removing his hand from hers and then wrapped that arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her temple while she laughed in protest.

How could someone who upset her for years make her so happy...? That's what Arthur wanted to know.

Alfred was everything she ever had, he could agree on that much. And yes, she still spent time away from Alfred - be it with his brother, Francis, or even Arthur himself to catch up on things, but at some point they'd end up talking about her new boyfriend whether or not the subject was brought up. It was a wonder though, how so much had changed between the two and -

"Arthur, love," Arissa's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked down to see his own girlfriend looking up at her with curious green eyes (and god, he remembered when she looked at him the same way once...)

"Everything's fine, love," he assured her gently, squeezing her hand with a smile on his face. He looked up ahead to see the two waiting at the elevator and blinked when Lia looked behind her to see if anyone else was coming. And once she did so, their gazes met for the first time today.

God, he never knew how painful it was to have her smiling at him, and yet he smiled back.

(All he could do now was support her like he did before.)


	5. I Wish I Was Your First Choice

_I wish I was your first choice._

Let's just flash forward a little bit. The rest of my pre-teen life, I'll admit that it wasn't the most interesting after what happened then. I did a few things, probably won't name them, but I did them anyways. It was alright. It did take me to the start of the 20th century, though. And those were rough times. It was a lot harder doing things in this time than in the last century, but hey - I just have to get through it, right?

For once, I wished that I could stay home. Back on my cozy, tiny heart shaped island where I didn't have to worry about flying or a war or even _him_.

God, I wish I didn't have to worry about him. That made everything worse.

So, around this time it's safe to say that he hasn't left my life. I wish he did, though. And I wish reality was a lot sweeter than this. I wish for many things overall. And then when you realize that you can't get what you want, I agree. I never got what I wanted. I could honestly have cared less (not that I cared anyways), but I had to push all that aside in order to fly. I had to put all my energy into this; I'd probably die if I didn't, though.

(Then again, there were many other things I had almost died doing.)

Walking along the air base, I caught sight of many things. Some pilots were just joking around or even probably just singing along to the songs on the portable radio; others were just listening for news or reading letters from back home (I've had my share); and then there was Alfred.

It was a little bittersweet, knowing that I had to fly with him. I had begrudgingly agreed to do so in the first place, which only made the experience worsen for me. Another thing that just made it a lot worse was _her_. She was Alfred's new girlfriend at the time, and I could see why he was into her. She was gorgeous - long, glossy black hair, alluring brown eyes, and tan skin - and she seemed so right for Alfred.

And no, this doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt me at all.

(Really, I swear that it doesn't.)

.

I shook off seeing Alfred with his new girlfriend before walking on, shoving my hands in my pockets. I had just gotten to the base only a day or two ago, and so far every day there had been the same. It was located in Philippines, and with that Alfred was much closer to his new "girlfriend". And of course, they were right by a beach, which made me feel better (and worse) at the same time. Every day that girl Alfred was with now managed to always find her way back to the base, and somehow they were just able to spend some time with each other. On the other hand, I've been looking for new places to escape. I'd walk along the shore close to the base, probably explore the beach a little until the sun began to disappear behind the sea. And with every walk out as she walked in, I'd feel ten times better than I did just getting up and out of bed.

There were times when I wouldn't even go to the beach. I'd just head to the hangar and spend my time with my plane. Yeah, I know. I have this super weird attachment to my plane and I'd spend every waking hour that I wasn't on the beach there, but it didn't matter to me. I just wanted to keep Bernie running for as long as I could get him to run. It went from hosing down my plane and giving it a good shine to changing the oil and making sure everything was running properly. That relaxed me, too.

And then there was Arthur.

Arthur was literally my favorite person in the world. No one really understood why, but he was. He practically included me in everything, he came to visit me much more often, and he was my favorite distraction, if I could call him one. I don't think he knows about my recent "disappearing tricks" and it was much better if he didn't, but even if he did I knew he was the type not to say anything. I had just finished up my helping of lunch and I was getting ready to head out before I caught sight of someone walking in front of me. _Great_.

"Headin' somewhere?" Alfred drawled almost casually, leaning carefully against the tent frame as he watched me step foot outside.

"Yeah, why?" I'm trying. I'm _really_ trying at this point. Good god, though, he pisses me off. You know how you just have that one person whose presence is enough to piss you off? Well, that was Alfred. I swear, he was about to say something in reply until I heard an accented voice call out to him. And from there he broke out into a huge smile before heading out to go meet her. I could only watch from where I stood as he immediately scooped her up into his arms for a tight embrace before pressing a kiss to her forehead, and she'd laugh while protesting. It was hard not to watch sometimes, but I only managed to keep my eyes on them for a few more seconds until shifting my focus into finding another exit through the tent and onto the beach.

I'd honestly hate to admit it, but as selfish as I sound, I hate seeing Alfred so happy.

(I wish he wasn't.)

.

I paced back and forth on the beach, trying to get the scene I saw with Alfred and his new...girlfriend, I guess, out of my head. The beach was nice distraction - from dusk to dawn back to dusk it was cool, the tides were usually tame around this hour, and when I stayed out longer the stars weren't blocked out by artificial lights. If anything, this was the only thing that actually made me happy. And I really could have just stood there for hours if it meant getting away from Alfred.

In the end, I guess it was just about getting away from him after all.

Kicking some of the pebbles in front of me as I walked, I stood close to the tides and watched them roll on and off the beach, the pebbles I absentmindedly kicked disappearing within the sea foam. I stood there in silence, just staring out at the water with such a listless look on my face. How could he just do this? Probably every year he has some new girl on his arm and yet...yet...

"Nice night out," a familiar voice seemed to pull at me as I turned around and nodded in reply. How long had he been standing there? And for that matter, how did Arthur even find me in the first place. I had honestly suspected that he did know that I'd been escaping lately, but he just never said anything. That...that was so like him. Even so, it probably wasn't the first time he's made assumptions like this. Even more so when he made assumptions that were right.

(Arthur was, and forever will be older than me; when was he not right?)

"So this is what you do out here..." he continued after a moment, then nearing me with each tentative step. He was hesitating, not that I blame him. He probably figured that I wanted to be alone, but when _I_ think about it, I didn't want to be. I had honestly spent so much time by myself during my escapes - or just in general - that maybe...maybe just having Arthur around for now wasn't so bad.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Helps me think, too." I looked up at him, then around, and then back at him before turning my gaze away from him again. I thought after this that I might have to find a new spot to escape into, but like I said before. I didn't really mind the fact that Arthur was here with me.

(And if it were _him_...)

From the corner of my eye, I could see Arthur's gaze switch from me to another direction, and I followed his line of sight to see Alfred and that girl he was with leave the mess hall. I know that that idiot was oblivious enough not to notice Arthur and me looking at him; surprisingly, I don't know why it hurt so much just looking at him. It never bothered me before; why should it bother me now?

( _Idiot_ , I mused inwardly, _it always bothered you_.)

I crossed my arms tighter against my chest and looked down at the sand, pulling away from Arthur slightly. I wanted to look up and see if Alfred had noticed at all, but who was I kidding? He wouldn't. He was too wrapped up into the other girl to care. That's how it always was. And for as long as I knew this to be true, that's how it was going to be.

"Lia - " he began after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

"Tell me something, Arthur," I cut him off immediately, whirling around in my spot to look at him.

"I'll tell you anything, love."

( _"Anything" means the things you think I want to hear..._ )

"I spent months...years trying to get away from him. What did I do that was so horrible to have him stay in my life?" There it was. I'm so used to pouring out my heart to Arthur already; it doesn't hurt to do it some more. I watched Arthur turn back to see if Alfred was listening in on our conversation, and seeing the look on his face I could tell that I was being harsh enough. Sucked for him, I guessed. But honestly, I didn't mean to have Alfred stay. He's just so adamant on staying, even though it's really unintentional. But why me?

Why?

"I'm free, right?" I walked along the tides, where the sea foam washed up against the sandbanks in the same, universal pattern. "And yet...he just ends up staying. That's not what I wanted! I wanted to get away from him. Why can't he just get out of my life like he was supposed to in the first place?! Why can't he and his flings just stay away from me?!"

If this were a tragic cycle, this was anything but. I'd like to call it a historical coincidence - he was everywhere I was and yet, it brought upon a series of emotions that seemed almost indescribable. At the same time, I could nearly name how I was feeling.

I felt great and shitty at the same time without knowing how possible it was, and let me tell you - it's possible. I wanted to forget it all and yet I wanted to call Alfred out on everything, let alone the truth, and ruin his life and just...how was it possible to feel so happy about something that hurt you and be rightfully upset about it at the same time?

"Artie...why can't this just leave me alone...?" Now, this could have gone either way. This was a historical coincidence. This could have also been my tragic cycle.

Why did I care so much about what Alfred did? What he did with his personal time wasn't any of my business. I'm not supposed to care. That was the cliche part about it, though: _I'm not supposed to care_.

This hurt. This hurt in such a bad and good way and I didn't know what to think of it. It was only then that when Arthur called me to his side that I finally moved. And soon enough, I found myself in the comfort of his arms. I wrapped my arms around his torso and closed my eyes, burying my face into his shoulders as I allowed him to place his chin on my head. Noticing it now, we had a significant height difference, but it wasn't too bad. It actually made me feel better just thinking about it. And Alfred -

(God, no, please don't; it started to hurt more just thinking about him...)

"I know it's hard," Arthur murmured, almost with a soft coo in his voice. I could feel him gently smoothing down my hair in slow, soothing patterns with the palm of his hand and I nestled in further. "The people we don't want in our lives are going to be there anyway...and just getting by with them is a part of life. I told you when you were younger that there will be people who will step on you, break you, and abandon you."

At that, Arthur gently unwrapped his arms from around me and placed his hands on my shoulders to have me look at him. And in an instant, I was looking into these gorgeous hues of green that almost pulled me in. Arthur gently cupped my face in his palms, then stroking my cheeks with the pad of his thumbs. He pulled me closer and in a moment I felt him place a kiss against my forehead.

"I promise you that I'll be one of the people who never will."

I hugged Arthur back and that's when I realized something.

(Like is not love, and I'm not up to that level.)

.

Having feelings just...sucks sometimes.

I laid on my cot that night after walking back with Arthur to the base. Everyone else was getting ready to sleep or already in their cots by the designated time, and I had just made the mark coming in. That was safe for me, at least. And now that I was here, I could just sleep whenever. I turned on my side carefully, knowing well enough that the mattress springs could wake someone up at any minute and I just...laid there.

That wasn't the first time I laid there and took my time to sleep, though. I had been doing it the past few nights and luckily enough I was actually amazed at how awake I was keeping myself when I needed to fly for what may be hours or so. I looked around the bunks by my cot and on one side, Mattie and Alfred shared a bunk. Matt was sleeping on top, still as a rock, and his brother was the exact opposite - tossing, turning, grumbling, snoring, and he moved and kicked.

It was actually amusing to watch, but at the same time...

I let out a soft sigh as I pulled the linen sheet further up to my shoulders, looking down at my hands clasped together onto the pillow before looking up at Alfred again. I really hated thinking so, but I thought he actually looked cute while he slept. And there, once again, went the painful pang of my heart as I laid there, curling up into a slight ball underneath the sheets. This wasn't the first time I felt like that around him, definitely not.

I guess you could say that I've been going on and off - it was really hard to ignore my feelings, when really they were growing if not going away. And honestly, I didn't even understand how this whole 'crush, feelings, possibly even love' thing worked, if there was any right way for it to work at all. Alfred seemed to be having an easy time, but it's probably not what it is since he always has a different girl in bed almost every night.

I just didn't know how one person could affect me this much. If he was happy, well, I was happy. I would have done anything for him - probably still would even if he didn't feel the same way. It was weird, scary, and no matter how hard I tried to forget as much as I could, in the end he'd always keep coming back. And I hated all of this. I hated it to the point where I felt like I didn't even want to do anything about it because if I tried it would hurt me more than it already did.

And he did so much to add salt to the wounds anyway.

That was when the thought from earlier came back to me, as I drifted off into a dreamless sleep. And from there, I thought of something else.

( _Like is not love. And love sucks._ )

 _[2016]_

A pair of arms pulled Lia tight against a broad chest, and the blonde couldn't help but to smile as she felt a pair of lips press kisses from her temple going down to her shoulder. And she wanted to sleep some more, if not wake up and bask in the warmth of her boyfriend's embrace from behind. She could only laugh as she felt his hands travel down her sides, and from behind her she heard him laugh as he pressed more kisses to her shoulders.

"Are you awake yet?" Alfred muttered with a smile, and Lia nodded, turning her head slightly to press a good morning kiss to the corner of his mouth. "You missed."

He aimed for her lips in no time, eventually capturing them against his with a triumphant grin. After that and just five more minutes, the pair was out of the bedroom and downstairs by the time 8:30 hit.

"Are you going to be okay with just coffee?" the Tavaruan called from the kitchen, as she stopped by the coffeemaker to get a head start on her boyfriend's coffee.

"I'll live," the global superpower simply answered, then coming down the stairs with a briefcase in hand, an undone tie around his neck, and his jacket slung over his free arm. As the coffee was brewing, that gave Lia more than enough time to head into the living room to see him slip on his loafers and grab his truck's keys off the hook. With that, she leaned against the wall with a raised eyebrow.

"I thought I was going to drive today."

"Don't worry about it, hon. I promise you, tomorrow you can drive us." He said that the past two weeks today.

"If you say so," she answered, then flashing him a smile before disappearing back into the kitchen to fix up his coffee the way he liked it. And he really needed it; the World Summit had been going at this issue for weeks (despite procrastinating heavily the first few meetings in the event that this issue had been brought up), and Lia and Alfred had gone through sleepless nights with the other Allies in trying to figure out how this issue would be resolved.

With the thought in mind, Lia capped off the coffee mug, slipped some nice flats into her bag and hoisted it onto her shoulder, put on her heels, locked the door and she and Alfred were well on their way to the Summit building.

.

The drive had been anything but boring (she and Alfred were keeping each other awake as best as they could) and once they had driven into the parking lot Lia could tell that by the way the lot was almost thirds of a quarter full, everyone probably wanted this issue to be resolved - the earlier they came, the better they could finish early. The Tavaruan had gotten out first and opened the passenger door to get Alfred's briefcase, and she could only laugh as she met him around the other side and he had her bag hoisted onto his shoulder.

"That looks really good on you," she teased, and she could only laugh as he kissed her again. She teased him even further as they switched bags ( _"Really though, Betsey Johnson looks uh-maze-ing."_ ) and she could only lean against his shoulder slightly as he took her hand and led her to the double doors that brought them into the summit building. And as soon as they stepped foot inside, they were well on their way to the meeting hall.

(From _"I really think that George Washington would have liked pickles"_ to _"UN pick up lines are really dumb"_ , the topics were endless with him.)

"What did I do to deserve you?" Lia looked up at Alfred as he pulled her towards him, causing their shoulders to bump and elicit a laugh from the both of them after her statement. He then paused to remove his hand from hers to lace his free arm around her shoulders, and he placed a kiss onto her temple.

"I think it should be the other way around," he countered, gently rubbing his nose against her temple after pressing a chaste kiss to it. "I love you."

"I know you do."

As they waited at the elevator, Lia craned her head to see if there was anyone coming, and Arthur and Arissa were coming up behind them. And as she watched them walk towards the elevator, she locked eyes with him.

 _(She smiled.)_


	6. You Hurt Me Again

_You hurt me again_

Looking back, I wished I was smart enough to realize _love was a pain in the ass_.

No, not joking, it was. Or at least I thought it did. I bet he didn't think of it that way, though; he was busy just going around with his flings and here I was...being absolutely miserable about how I was going about doing things. God, though, how many flings did he have? I'm just guessing it's a number too large to name and that it could be something that I can't think up at the top of my head. My wrist says otherwise. It's a number much fewer than what I was thinking of. Oh, well.

From what you've seen, I only have three.

Three was the lucky number for him, I'm assuming. That's how many girls he can get in one night, or in the span of a few years in which I managed to rid myself from his life and yet he manages to push himself back into it ( _that bastard_ ).

And from what you've seen, you might think I've stopped.

The thought of it was easy, but the action was harder. When I kept going, I didn't feel pain. Okay, maybe pain was the aftershock but I didn't feel it in the midst. I only felt numb.

( _For the first time, I felt better._ )

Then with more of that meant more alibis. I had to come up with more lies, more excuses, and more answers to questions I didn't know. At least people were becoming less suspicious; they think that bandage became a favorite accessory of mine. I can't blame them; it actually has.

.

I could hear the dripping from the tap of the tub as I sat there listlessly, watching the water turn slightly murky and red from the drops seeping through the newly made cut I had made underneath the last one I had made. It had been months since that last one. It was still red and looked fresh and just...how long ago was that one, anyway? The blood mixed with the water the small droplets drip-dropped into soundlessly, making tiny swirls and other gorgeous patterns before dissolving completely.

The trails of blood stained the inner walls of the pearly white bathtub as I rested my left arm there gingerly, then looking down at the knife, now sheathed, nestled comfortably in my right hand and submerged in the water. If I lifted it, it looked much smaller than it did in the water. I did anyway, also getting up and getting out of the tub. I peered into the tub, seeing that the water still in it was a murky pinkish color instead of the soapy grey-ish white it was before. Making my way to the sink, I looked down at the white tile floor that was now stained with drops of my blood, coming out in quick trickles from the newly opened cut I made only a few minutes before. Turning on the sink to the coldest it could go, I gritted my teeth and began to clean it out.

 _Shit_. There was the pain.

It always seemed to catch up to me like this, and as I watched the blood mix with the water going down the drain until there was a clean cut, I carefully dried it before squeezing it together to close the open wound. I grabbed the clean bandage to wrap around my wrist tightly, but comfortably enough not to completely cut off circulation, and clipped it closed before drying myself off and dressing myself. God, that was a hassle. And the blood's just a hassle to clean, which made it even worse. I picked my dirty clothes off the floor before exiting the bathroom, my left wrist still stinging like hell and dropped everything into the laundry basket.

If I had to think about anything though, it certainly wouldn't be about...him. And it wouldn't be about that poor soul that he so 'lured' into his trap or whatever they were. I could care less. Funny thing was, this was the second time he had seen this girl. They were together when I was younger, but they split up only for the fact that she was done with his shit and wanted to leave. I don't blame her; I was done with his shit, too. She ended up going back to him, though. I feel for whomever goes back to him in the future.

I laid on my back, staring at the ceiling while trying my hardest to ignore the searing pain that was going up my left wrist. I was used to it by now. Having done this four times, it's become more of a second nature. The pain is soothing, the cuts are numbing, and as red as my arm gets is all the pain etched onto it with no way of other escape.

This was just...a nice feeling. A really nice feeling.

.

" _Ma belle_ , won't you just be cordial about it?"

I only sighed before turning around to see Francis lounge on long sofa with a visibly relaxed look on his face, and I leaned against the wall as he adjusted his position to sit up for possibly the seventh time today.

"Francis, if I'm ever cordial about it, it would go right out the window in just a snap," I replied, tossing a look out the window before putting all my attention back to him. Francis and I were pretty close, yes. After finding out that Arthur frequented my place, France was no stranger to Tavarua and I really didn't mind that. We had our interesting conversations, and he never really stayed on a single topic once.

("Once" meaning at least throughout his whole visit, and possibly the next time he came to visit me.)

For the past fifteen minutes we had been talking about...him, and how once again he had come to be with someone else after he and his recent ex just separated like that. His new girlfriend, dare I say it, was actually...really creepy. She kept tabs on Alfred all the time and she had no conception of space or whatever it was, but she was always there. And she clung onto him as if he were about to get away from her. Not that I blame him though, I would have gotten away, too, but-

" _Belle_ , why your so-called "wristband" turning red?" Francis' voice soon snapped me out of my thoughts. _Wait, what?_ What did he mean that it was turning red? I swear I pressed on it tight enough to stop the bleeding! Mentally cursing myself, I excused myself to head to the bathroom, locking the door once I made it in. I carefully unraveled the bandage to see the fifth cut I made this morning start bleeding and the blood mat itself all over the rest of my closed cuts and arm.

"Shit..." I cursed under my breath, turning on the faucet to the coldest water and placed my wrist under the onset of the numbing cold it had to offer me. Tapping my other hand against the rim of the sink, I carefully placed my thumb over the reopened cut and with gritted teeth used the pad of it to run over the open cut and clean it out. Francis was still in the lounge down the hall and I had to get through the pain the cold water brought upon me. Why, once again, did I decide to make another one before Francis' visit? I knew he was coming!

(I also knew that this was a stupid decision and _once again, I knew that I made many stupid decisions_ ).

After mentally telling myself that never again should I bring a knife to this wrist until after they've left, the cut was finally cleaned and I pressed my other hand over it to close the wound before quickly grabbing the bandage with the now dried blood stain on it and re-wrapped it, making sure to cover up the bloodstain and clip it up before heading out again. My arm was throbbing and the lingering pain that came from cleaning the wound had finally shown up as Francis gave me a knowing look.

"Everything good, _ma chere_?"

"Yeah, definitely." He still had that knowing look on his face, but that smolder to match somehow got to me and for a moment my heart almost stopped.

( _I think I was exaggerating at the time, I didn't know_ )

"Are you sure, belle?" I knew Francis wouldn't persist further if I said everything was fine, but he already knew what I was doing; and it was already annoying how he knew and yet he wasn't even saying anything. After all, he already saw the blood staining the bandage so there really was no point in trying to deny anything anymore.

"Yeah, totally sure."

( _Why did England not let me see him as much when I was younger?_ )

After a few more hours of catching up (I still had that thought in mind as the time progressed), Francis had to go, and that meant I'd have to wait some more when it came down to his visits again. I mean, it's not like Francis' visits kept me on my toes from this time on, but I was much more careful at this point.

"Just relax, _ma chere_ ," Francis' voice softened as he caught me looking at the door. He took his suitcase in one hand with a grunt, lifting it carefully before walking to the door, "but will you be alright?"

"I will." ( _I think that was the third time I said that today_.)

"Alright then, _ma belle_."

My way of telling Francis goodbye seemed much too close for comfort for some, but I leaned up to press two kisses to his cheeks in the way he was accustomed to, murmuring something in the French he taught me years back before pulling away. Around this time, Francis would give me a kiss on any part of my face - he'd return the kisses to my cheeks, or he'd place one on my forehead, the top of my head, or on my nose. It was completely different today, though.

Francis delicately took my bandaged left wrist into his wrist and turned it over to where my palm was facing up. He carefully thumbed the cloth bandage laced around my wrist before gently pressing his lips against it. After he let go, he placed one more kiss to my nose before patting the top of my head. I was silent, but he only gave me a reassuring smile with the softest eyes I had ever seen.

" _Ma belle, la douleur va disparaitre_."

And those were the last words he said to me before he left.

(God, I just hoped it went away soon.)

.

"Love? Love, everything alright?" I was snapped out of my thoughts as I heard a familiar voice speaking to me, and I blinked once, twice, possibly three times before I realized I was staring into my cup of tea and when I looked up I found myself staring into -

"Everything's fine, Arthur," I finally replied after it took me a good few seconds to recollect my thoughts and actually say something because he looked _incredibly_ worried and I didn't want to give him _another_ heart attack if I didn't say anything. I set my teacup down on the saucer as he did as well, sitting back and crossing his legs as he took a good look at me. Normally when Arthur did that his eyes seemed to soften, and his looks came to be more thoughtful.

At least I thought it did, anyway.

"You've grown," was the only think he said with a smile on his face, and all I could do was sit back as well. I grew, huh? I guess it was soup for the thought, but nothing about me changed. My habits didn't change at all. I was just there, praying for the pain in my left arm to die down and _just stop_ while Arthur was there in front of me, and I could only bite my lip as I tried to ignore the stinging feeling that proceeded to just flush from my wrist to my whole arm.

"I have, huh?"

"Yeah. You're not that little girl you were back in 1879. You're a young woman."

"God, I haven't noticed," I joked, making him laugh as he picked up his teacup once more and took a sip. He took the saucer with the cup, this time leaning back and just eyeing me seriously.

"You know," he began, carefully placing his cup on the saucer as he held it with both hands. "I'm holding another dinner in a few weeks. I have a special seat saved for you with Arissa."

I only sighed internally, picking up my teacup to take another sip as I closed my eyes for a moment. When Arthur mentioned these sorts of events, lately I just declined going to most of them. The only thing was Alfred started going to those events a lot more than I thought, and with every event meant some other girl on his arm. On top of that, just his presence alone was enough to make me decline, even though I really didn't want to.

"I'll try to go." That was one of the many excuses I had begun to tell Arthur. I hated lying to him. I really did. I also hated the fact that everything I was telling him flew over his head and while that was the case, I just hated lying to him in order to keep my secret safe. "Really, Artie. I'll see if I'm not busy."

I always loved Arthur's events. They were always super fun and just being around most of Europe always seemed to relax me. With Tavarua being such a distance away I had to admit that it got lonely out there, and even at those events where pretty much the whole world was around and informed it seemed to feel like less of an event and more of me staying quiet since I wasn't really caught up with everyone else.

(And if you lived in a big world like that, news didn't travel as fast as I thought it would.)

I set down my teacup, making sure to adjust my bandages carefully. I flinched as the cloth came into contact with the new cut I made, and I mentally cursed myself as a bit of blood seeped through the cloth, but I made sure to use another fold on the bandage to cover that up. Arthur watched me with a narrow gaze as he put his cup down once more as well.

"What are you thinking of?" he suddenly asked me after a moment of silence.

I could only smile and reply, "You know, you don't have to feel lonely just being by yourself. You could be with other people and still feel lonely even then."

"Everything alright, love?" his expression changed from one of sentiment to one with worry, now reaching out from across the table to settle gently on my left hand. God, I was really trying not to flinch because as soon as he touched my hand both pain and heat traveled up my arm and it felt good and bad at the same time. "You've been acting differently, lately."

"What do you mean?"

"You've been much quieter recently. And you don't come around anymore." He squeezed my hand as he went on. "It's not me, right?"

( _"It could never be you, Arthur."_ )

"No! Of course not." I shook my head quickly as he squeezed my hand, and as the pain increased so did the heat (and the throbbing of my heart, might I add).

He only smiled, removing his hand from mine with a chuckle. "Good. I was getting worried for a moment."

Yeah? Well, so was I.

.

After the moment Arthur left the house ("Consider it, poppet," he told me; he really wanted me to go to that dinner event) I quickly hurried back upstairs and up to the bathroom so that I could unravel the bandages I wore around my wrist. As I unraveled it, there was the first three I ever made. After the third one, there was the fourth, then the fifth, and then the sixth.

I stared for a moment at the six I made, then trailing my eyes down to the very last one. Like the fifth one, there was blood matted onto the cut and it was spread all over the fourth and the fifth cuts I made. And speaking of those cuts, they were actually closing up nicely. It would take them longer to close up, like it did with the first ones, but they'd get there eventually.

I got to cleaning out the sixth cut properly this time, looking into the mirror as I did so. That made me think about a few things. For one, what was I doing? I was lying to the people I knew left and right, and I was pushing the people who cared about me away as fast as I can. As for the second one, why was I doing this?

To tell the truth, I still didn't know.

As I thought about that, I could only stare at the running water that poured over my open cut, and as the water began to sting, I couldn't help but feel like this was a sign for me to stop.

Stopping was much harder that I thought.

[2016]

"You know, love, this is the first time we've gotten you alone," Arthur laughed softly, earning a laugh from the 18-year-old sitting across from him and Francis. Francesca and Arissa had been telling them to take Lia out for a little catching up time, and despite how opposed they were to going with each other they had to put up with it for the sake of the Tavaruan they had planned to take out for lunch.

"Yeah, I know," Lia could only laugh apologetically. "Sorry about that. Alfred's been just taking up so much of my attention lately, I don't get as much time to spend with everyone else." Of course Lia had some time to spend with her friends, but other than her friends, Alfred was the first thing she saw when she woke up and the last thing before she went to sleep. And frankly, she hadn't minded that at all.

In the meanwhile though, in the midst of most of the noise of the bustling cafe, Arthur and Francis exchanged a knowing glance with each other. Of course it was Alfred. Knowing the young superpower, they knew he was serious about Lia - very serious, in fact - but she still had people around her who cared about her. Was he that okay with closing her off from the rest of the world?

"At least we finally get to spend time with you, belle," Francis smiled gently, taking a sip of his coffee after stirring in some cream. "It has been ages, after all."

"Yeah, definitely!" The younger agreed enthusiastically, taking a sip of her the cappuccino she ordered. As the afternoon at the cafe progressed, Arthur and Francis had to agree that Lia was much more enthusiastic being around them, and unlike when she was younger and she'd only listen in, she actually spoke up and joined in the conversation. They were actually very impressed with how much she had changed, like she had vowed she did when she came back to them at the start.

After a moment of silence while eating, Arthur finally spoke up with a, "Remember what you told me all those years ago?"

Lia looked up from her salad, with a raised eyebrow. "I told you many things, Arthur. Which one?"

" _You don't have to feel lonely just being by yourself. You could be with other people and still feel lonely even then_."

"Oh, _that_ ," the younger had a thoughtful smile on her face as she set down her fork. "Yeah, what about it?"

"Do you still feel like that, love?"

"Not anymore. I mean, times have changed."

Francis only looked confused at the exchange between the two, but only squeezed her left hand before flipping it over to the now fading cuts on her wrist and pressed a small kiss to them like he did before. He knew that the bond Arthur and Lia shared was just as deep as his with her, but with this at least he had reassurance that there was meaning to it.

After paying the bill and started on their walk back, the three bought themselves more coffee (and Arthur some tea) to help get through the second half of the meeting. Once they got through the double doors of the meeting hall, Lia was immediately greeted by Alfred bounding up to her and giving her a quick kiss, to which she reciprocated just as eagerly. Even after all that, Arthur and Francis both heaved a synchronized sigh before heading back to Arissa and Francesca respectively.

"How was lunch?" Francesca asked, looking at the two who seemed to have faraway glances on their faces.

"We just don't understand why after all this, she ends up going back to him anyway," Arthur closed his eyes as his girlfriend only placed her hand over his.

"Lia's my best friend and I love her to death, but bloody hell we told her," Arissa agreed, watching the exchange between Lia and Alfred with Francis and Francesca while letting out a sigh. "He's not good for her."

"All we can do now is just be there for her when he proves that he isn't good for her," Francesca finished, watching as Alfred lifted Lia's left wrist in his hand gently and pressed a kiss to it before leaning in to kiss her again. And right next to her, Francis' eyes darkened a bit just watching it.

 _'Just be there for her, huh?'_


End file.
